


War Drums

by NeurotropicAgentX



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Glorification Of Violence, Leave The Helmet On, Rare Pair, Sparring, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeurotropicAgentX/pseuds/NeurotropicAgentX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the field, Ren was a wild tempest of destruction. He charged his opponents and cut them down with no thought of restraint or caution. His ugly blade crackled with the same unfocused, wasteful energy, and carved through flesh and armour like it was air. It was everything that Phasma should have hated. Instead the excess and violence twisted something low and visceral inside her. She wanted to pit her own physicality against that maelstrom of wrath, without having to hold back.     </p><p>The prompt said “two 6'3" and shredded warriors going at it with everything they have”. This is that. They break a bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Drums

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from [this](http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/3961.html?thread=9567609#cmt9567609) TFA kinkmeme prompt. Shout out to my awesome editor for all her invaluable assistance.

Phasma’s heart thudded in her chest like a war-drum. Each beat sent blood coursing through her arteries, bearing heat and the battlefield-thrill of adrenaline. Her stormtroopers had slaughtered their planet-side opponents and she had personally shot at least half a dozen enemies. 

Ren was sitting beside her on the transport shuttle. He was contained and quiet now, completely different than how he’d been on the battlefield. Phasma prided herself on the efficiency and discipline of her command and her ’troopers. They were a deadly fighting force that moved like a well-oiled machine. Ren… wasn’t that.

In the field, Ren was a wild tempest of destruction. He charged his opponents and cut them down with no thought of restraint or caution. His ugly blade crackled with the same unfocused, wasteful energy, and carved through flesh and armour like it was air. It was everything that Phasma should have hated. Instead the excess and violence twisted something low and visceral inside her. She wanted to pit her own physicality against that maelstrom of wrath, without having to hold back.

Phasma’s thoughts were interrupted when they started docking back at base. Ren turned to face her as the roar of the engines subsided. The dull light in the shuttle glinted of the planes of his helmet and briefly illuminated the splash of blood that curved down the faceplate. ‘Would you hang back a moment, captain? There’s something I’d like to discuss.’ 

Phasma inclined her head. ‘Very well.’ Ren turned his head back to face the middle of the shuttle. 

Her stormtroopers filed out as soon as they landed, a few of them saluting her as they left. It wasn’t part of standard protocol, but rather something that had emerged organically between them. She acknowledged each gesture with a brief nod and singled out one ’trooper who’d performed particularly well with a curt, ‘Well done, soldier.’

The stormtrooper in question, BN-3141, gave her own nod in return and walked taller as she left the shuttle. Out of the corner of her eye, Phasma saw one of Four-one’s comrades slap her on the back, while another said something that made the three of them laugh. Phasma smiled beneath her helmet before turning her attention to Ren. He stood and gestured toward the exit. Phasma fell into step beside him until they reached a slight alcove formed by the wall of the hangar and a support strut. Phasma folded her arms as he turned to face her. 

‘What did you want to say?’ she asked.

Ren was silent for a long moment. He was twitchier now that they’d left the shuttle. Phasma recognised the post-battle fervour in his body language cues. ‘I could feel your lingering bloodlust all through the trip back,’ he said.

Phasma shrugged. ‘I can see yours right now.’

Ren gave a mirthless laugh that distorted oddly through his helmet. ‘It’s how I access the dark side. It’s where I draw my strength. You, on the other hand, seem to enjoy it for its own sake. The fight. The _kill_.’

‘I enjoy the battle and the challenge of it.’

‘And you enjoyed watching me,’ Ren said. 

‘You have no control, no discipline,’ Phasma said, not bothering to hide her distaste, ‘and somehow you’re still an effective fighter. You’re a contradiction.’ 

Ren leaned forward. ‘Come spar with me.’

Phasma thought it through for a moment. Then she stepped forward into Ren’s space and reached out to grab a handful of whatever was between his legs. There were too many layers between both of them for it to be anything more than an implication, but Ren’s gloved hands came up to clamp down on her shoulders. Her armour was much too strong to creak, but Phasma could almost imagine Ren’s fingers digging into the plate and painting bruises across her shoulders. 

‘I have a better idea,’ Phasma pointed out evenly.

Ren’s breath hissed through his mask. ‘Yes. My quarters, half an hour.’

‘Done.’ Phasma let him go and his hands fell away. She left without another word. She’d fought hard to get her ’troopers placed off-shift just after a battle and, for the first time, she would take advantage of the regulation. 

///

Phasma arrived at Ren’s quarters precisely half an hour later. The door hissed open at her approach, before she could even indicate her presence. She frowned beneath her helmet. The casual reminder of Ren’s command over the nebulous ‘Force’ was not particularly welcome. 

Ren was inside, pacing the generous confines of his room, but he came to a halt when she crossed the threshold. Phasma was pleased to see that he was wearing his helmet, but had otherwise stripped down to gear more suitable for sparring. The door slid shut behind her.

Ren inclined his head. ‘Captain.’ His gloved hands clenched and relaxed by his sides. None of his tension seemed to have dissipated in the interim. Good.

Phasma returned his nod. Without a word she started the complicated procedure of removing the plates of her armour. Ren’s head didn’t move, but she could tell he was tracking each of her movements as she piled the pieces in a corner of the room. It didn’t take long before she was standing in just her padded bodysuit. She’d left her helmet on too, of course.

She straightened up and turned to face Ren. ‘Spar with me?’ she said, hoping that her smirk would be audible through her helmet.

‘With pleasure,’ Ren said and sprang at her with no further warning. Phasma crouched reflexively and brought her arm around to punch Ren in the gut. She pulled her blow at the last moment, conscious of the fact that this wasn’t the battlefield any longer. Even so, it felt like striking one of the punching bags in the training rooms and Phasma was grateful that her reflexes included tucking her thumb in the correct position outside her fist. Ren’s breath hissed out in something like a snarl and his foot caught her just below the ribs. She grunted at the impact. 

‘Don’t hold back!’ he growled at her. ‘Don’t _ever_ hold back with me.’

A burst of adrenaline flooded Phasma at those words. ‘You’re sure,’ she said. It wasn’t a question. Ren’s only response was to lunge at her again. 

This time Phasma didn’t pull her punches, aiming for Ren’s solar plexus and for the vulnerable spot beneath his ribs. He blocked the first blow, but took the second blow as glancing hit to his side. The sound Ren made in response was half-pained and half something else entirely. A dark surge of hunger rose in Phasma as she imagined the way the strike would bruise.

Ren retaliated by grabbing her arm and trying to slam her into the wall. Phasma let her helmet clang off the durasteel wall. There was no finesse in Ren’s grapple, but she marvelled at the level of strength it must have taken for him to move her, even clumsily. She pushed off the wall and flicked her leg out in a solid kick. Ren dodged backward, disengaging for a moment.

This time Phasma was prepared when Ren charged her. She sidestepped at the last moment and grabbed him, throwing him over her hip. All his strength meant nothing without control. He surprised her by hitting the ground rolling to shed the power of the throw. His leg lashed out and connected solidly with her calf. Pain blossomed in Phasma’s leg, but she kept her footing. She rewarded Ren with another grunt and pivoted to face him.

Ren surged up in a violent motion and grabbed her around the waist. He pulled them both to the floor and they kicked and rolled until Phasma ended up on top. She landed two solid punches to Ren’s ribs before he twisted to roll them again. They crashed into the open doorway that split off into Ren’s personal ’fresher. 

Phasma’s back connected solidly with the corner of the doorjamb and Ren ended up half in her lap with one of his knees digging into the dense muscle of her thigh. His hands found their way to her shoulders, but all he did was dig in his fingers. 

Phasma reached out slowly to wrap her hands around his waist. He shifted obligingly when she slid her thigh between his legs and his hips rocked against her in subtle motions. Phasma could feel the slick heat that was building between her own legs. 

‘Shall we take this to the bed?’ she asked in carefully even tones. 

Ren nodded sharply, perhaps not trusting his voice. He stood up jerkily and offered her a hand. Phasma snorted and pushed off the wall. She’d only accept that kind of a gesture from one of her stormtroopers. She planted a hand in the centre of Ren’s chest and he let her push him back toward the bed. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress he grabbed her wrist though, and this time she let him pull her down to the bed. 

Phasma started undoing the fastenings of her clothes and pulling them off. Ren did the same, and his hands eventually went to the clasps of his helmet.

‘Leave it on,’ Phasma said.

Ren hesitated. ‘What?’

‘I’m interested in the lethal, undisciplined weapon I saw on the battlefield. Not the person.’

Ren’s breath stuttered through the vocoder, the sound reminiscent of a mechanical malfunction. ‘Okay, yes. You too, keep the helmet on.’

Phasma smirked to herself. ‘Obviously.’

As soon as Phasma’s torso was bared, Ren reached up to touch her. He didn’t caress and instead his strong fingers dug into the meat of her biceps, feeling down her arms until he reached the unyielding tendons in the crook of her elbow. Phasma let out a pleased sigh as some of the knots in her muscles loosened under his touch. 

She indulged her own interest in the thick plane of muscle stretched out beneath her. Ren made an odd breathy sound when she dug her fingers into his pectorals and skated her calloused fingers down his ribcage. His hands released their death-grip on her arms in order to grab at her pectorals. The feel of his rough palm against her breasts and nipples made her hips twitch and she pressed into his touch. She tugged at the pants that were still covering him.

‘You’re wearing too many clothes.’

Ren snorted and grabbed her thighs, digging his thumbs into the crease where they joined her torso. ‘So are you.’

Phasma shifted to one side and tugged off her pants while Ren did the same. This time when Phasma slung a leg over Ren’s hip, they realigned with the heat of bare flesh against bare flesh. She grabbed Ren’s cock, moderating her touch with only the barest edge of gentleness out of courtesy. He didn’t seem to mind and bucked into her grip. Then his abdominals tensed as he sat up and slung an arm around her shoulders. Phasma leaned back to compensate for his weight and his free hand dragged down her chest and rubbed against her slick folds. He twisted his hand palm-up to circle her clit with his thumb. She grunted in approval.

‘Have you been given the all clear from medical?’ Phasma asked.

‘Yes,’ Ren replied breathlessly. 

Phasma batted his hand away and pushed him back down to the bed. She adjusted her grip on his cock and sank down on him with no preamble, shifting her weight as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her. Ren’s head thudded back with a groan and his hands fisted in the covers of his bed. 

Phasma looked down at him. ‘Are you going to last long enough to be worth my time?’

‘Of course,’ he spat. ‘I have ways of controlling my body and its urges.’

‘The Force?’ Phasma asked.

‘Something like that,’ he panted. ‘Just—just _move_ already!’

Phasma lifted herself on her knees and slammed back down on Ren. He made a sound high in his throat. Then his hips snapped up, driving him deeper. Phasma’s breath hitched at the unexpected sensation. She planted a hand in the centre of Ren’s chest and began riding him in earnest, pounding him into the mattress. The feeling of Ren’s hard muscles beneath her hand and the thick heat of him inside her made pleasure curl around her core. A shiver worked its way down her back when Ren seized her thighs to give himself more leverage as he thrust.

A moment later a loud creaking noise came from beneath them. Phasma stilled. ‘What was that?’ she asked.

‘Don’t care, come on!’

Phasma cocked her head, listening out for the sound. With a frustrated noise, Ren tightened his grip on her thighs and half twisted, half shoved, until he managed to flip them over. It wasn’t quite a combat manoeuvre, but there was no way he’d have been able to unseat her without training. As soon as Ren managed to position himself between her legs, he thrust back into her. 

Phasma wrapped one leg around his lower back and pulled him closer. Ren jolted, off balance, and dug his hand into her other thigh to steady himself.

‘Harder,’ Phasma demanded heatedly.

Ren growled and heaved into his next thrust. The force of it stole her breath. Phasma’s shoulders dug into the mattress and used the leverage to buck into the next thrust. It was difficult with half of Ren’s weight on her thigh, but the angle was perfect. Phasma reached down her body to give her clit some attention, but Ren batted her hand away. Phasma grabbed his wrist and squeezed until she could feel his bones grinding against each other. Ren made a noise suspiciously like a whimper, but if anything it seemed to spur him on. He still needed his other hand for balance, so Phasma was free to grind her off-hand against her clit. It was novel using her left, and with Ren’s unrelenting thrusts, she was rapidly approaching the edge.

The creaking sound came again, this time louder and distinctly metallic. Ren didn’t even slow and Phasma was glad despite herself. Then the angle changed wildly as the whole bed dipped and caved. 

‘Support strut,’ Ren grunted. ‘Mustn’t be built to take two like us.’

They’d broken the bed. Phasma barked a laugh, oddly charmed. The new angle still worked for her and she pressed up hard against her hand and Ren’s cock. His breaths were coming harsher and his thrusts had enough power to send sparks of pleasure up and down her spine. With a final clench and grind of her fingers, Phasma came. Her back bowed and she uttered a deep moan. Her thoughts went blank and every muscle in her body tensed before relaxing deeply. She thought there was a loud gasp above her, but she couldn’t be sure.

The world gradually reasserted itself and the first thing Phasma noticed was Ren’s heavy form slumped over her. She jabbed him in the brachial plexus, but not unkindly. ‘Move.’

Ren grumble something incoherent and rolled off her. Then he stretched out with his arms above his head and pushed himself up. Phasma sat up too, shifting to keep her balance on the tilted surface of the bed. She felt calm and strangely magnanimous, so she placed a hand on Ren’s bare shoulder and drew him closer. She rested the brow of her helmet against his, like she would if he were one of her stormtroopers. ‘Thank you. That was very satisfactory.’ 

Ren snorted, amused, she thought. ‘You’re welcome. I might actually get some sleep after a battle, for once.’

Phasma leaned back and nodded. She certainly understood being too keyed up to sleep after a skirmish against the enemy. This had been more useful than a shift spent in the training rooms. It was good not to have to hold back. Still, this wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. Ren was still a Force-user and therefore unreliable and filled with idiotic notions about some grand mystical conflict. 

A counterargument occurred to her. ‘You didn’t use the Force when we fought,’ she noted, keeping her voice neutral.

‘Of course not. It would have shamed us both.’

Phasma nodded. He understood that much at least. ‘Maybe I’ll find you after my next deployment.’

Ren inclined his head in return. ‘I’d like that, captain.’


End file.
